


time to fall apart

by justsomerain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Acceptance, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hiding Medical Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Phobias, Polyamory, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomerain/pseuds/justsomerain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third day the pain is worse than it has been the past days, and he can’t help but feel like it’s visible on his face. They’re going to catch on, and they’ll send him to the medics, and though he rationally knows that there is nothing to fear, that doesn’t make in any easier.</p>
<p>Growing up in the First Order isn't easy, and leaves its scars. Finn still is terrified of medics.</p>
<p>For the prompt "Finn gets injured and tries to hide it from Rey and Poe and almost does Successfully until... (Idk you decide from there) "</p>
            </blockquote>





	time to fall apart

The First Order doesn’t foster a lot of things, for all they foster (if you can call it that) the children they take from unsuspecting families.

There is the thing against casual touch, which if somebody reports you for it, warrants re-education. Any emotion beyond loyalty to the First Order is something that they try to stop, with medication in your food, and a diet that is balanced by top scientists.

Another thing they foster is a culture of not showing your pain.

Sure enough, there are medics in the First Order for those Stormtroopers who get hurt during training or battle, but it’s more likely that you’ll never be seen again if you’re hurt more than is easily healed, and even if you are easily healed, the healing process itself is not easy for you.

No, spare the rod and spoil the child is something that applies to the medics appointed to heal Stormtroopers.

And so, Finn has tried to avoid them as much as he could his entire life. Sure, his squad was new enough that nobody disappeared after getting too hurt during battle, but he had heard the stories, and worse, he had heard the screams of those in his age layer who were healed.

This brought its own issues, of course. None of them got easily vaccinated diseases, but he had seen boys of ten years old whimper silently, pale as ghosts with thick sweat drops heavy on their brows, fighting hard to get through a fever, because they would not see a medic.

He still doesn’t like medics, even if the Resistance ones are nowhere near the torturers the First Order medics are, even if they patched him up well enough after Star Killer Base.

 

Finn can feel his wrist snapping as he stumbles back badly during a fight on one of the Outer Rim planets, dodging behind a wall so he doesn’t get shot with a blaster. Tears spring into his eyes and he blinks them away quickly, breathing rapidly before he gets himself under control.

During training they were taught temporary pain management, and that together with their diet full of supplements and hormones, they could fight through just about anything, barring dismemberment and death.

He knows he should get it set or checked out at the very least, but he just can’t. There is too much fear of the medics still ingrained in his entire being, no matter how often the Resistance has proved itself different from the First Order.

Fear is an insidious thing, the way it lingers in the back of your head.

So instead, he switches hands on his blaster, and though the recoil is not much better on his wrist holding it this way, there is still a difference. There’s not much resistance anymore anyway, with Rey cutting through foe after foe with her lightsaber, and though he usually is more useful in a fight, nobody will notice too much if he keeps to just sporadic, strategic firing for now.

Once they get back in the Falcon, Poe, Rey, and Chewbacca are far too busy piloting and gunning and whatnot to pay much attention to him, and he carefully wraps his wrist tightly in bandages, immobilising it as best as he can, even with the swelling, after which he gulps down two painkillers dry.

He’s lucky the flight jacket is supposed to house gloves underneath, so it’s still easy to cover his wrist with it, and thus the bandages, and at least for the flight he is fine.

 

Rey is the first one to notice anything, her eyes always sharp, no matter the situation, and for once Finn is almost sorry that they are. It’s the meal after they get back, and she’s watching him like a hawk.

“You’re right handed. Why are you using left?”

His hand stops halfway between plate and his mouth, spoon full of pudding (what a wonderful thing, sweet food) in mid-air, and he’s uncertain what to say, open and closing his mouth for a moment before he can come up with an answer.

“Both hands. I can use both hands.”

He shrugs, trying to stay nonchalant.

“We’re trained for it. In case things go wrong. I sometimes use different hands.”

At that he nods sagely, as if he’s always switching hands, and though Rey still watches him for a moment, eyes narrowed, Poe’s scrutiny now added to hers, she continues to eat instead.

She knows what it’s like to have all this new food, and it’s still new enough for both of them that they’re both easily distracted by it.

Poe, however, is more used to it, and he watches Finn for the rest of the meal, while he tries his hardest to seem like he’s practised in using his left hand for everything, afraid of showing even the slightest shudder in his hold.

 

He’s lucky the next two days are quiet, no need for rushing and fighting or defending, especially considering how swollen his wrist stays, and how much it hurts, even if he immobilises it to the best of his abilities (which is surprisingly hard when you’ve only got functional use of one hand).

But quiet days don’t stop your boyfriend and girlfriend from keeping an eye on you, and his every move he tries to be as casual as he can about using his left hand for everything.

When he pulls Poe closer for a kiss, it’s with his left, right arm wrapping around the other man’s waist so he won’t have to move his wrist too much.

Carefully scratching Rey’s head happens with left too. She loves getting her scalp touched, and it’s a regular activity on slow nights, which invariably ends up with her relaxing almost bonelessly with her head in the lap of whomever the scratcher is. The worst part is that now he can’t switch hands when his hand cramps up.

So he tries to deal with it, carefully, wearing shirts that cover his wrists, managing the pain with exercises he was taught from the moment he was old enough to understand instructions, and painkillers smuggled from the medbay.

 

The third day the pain is worse than it has been the past days, and he can’t help but feel like it’s visible on his face. They’re going to catch on, and they’ll send him to the medics, and though he rationally _knows_  that there is nothing to fear, that doesn’t make in any easier.

And somewhere there is a little voice cussing himself out for being this stupid, for not just accepting to go to the medics, who could solve this issue, who could stop the pain, but he just can’t, and even thinking about it makes his chest constrict and his head buzz.

 

They’re being dragged into a war room meeting, and though it’s logical, Rey is the next hope for the galaxy, Poe is the greatest pilot in the Resistance, and he’s the one with insider knowledge about the First Order, he can’t help but feel faint, despite the painkillers.

When he looks into a mirror before he moves to get to the gathering, he can see a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he wipes it away, before pulling a sleeve lower over his right wrist.

All he has to do is get through this meeting, and then he can freshen up, maybe see if the swelling has gone down a little, even if he knows from the pain that it won’t have. It’s just a meeting, how hard can it be?

 

When everybody is gathered, General Organa is the first to speak, indicating Finn, Rey, and Poe to a newcomer who is covered in quills whose tips seem to shine in the light, they are that sharp.

“Wynt Savun, as I promised you, the stories are true.”

The newcomer nodded, grunting, looking at each of them in turn, with beady eyes underneath a heavy brow.

“Your word is good as ever, General Organa.”

That earned an approximation of a smile on the general’s face, and Finn took the moment to look the newcomer up and down, before he realised what this would mean.

Not all species shook hands, so there was hope yet, but as the quilled creature stepped forward, his heart sunk. There was no escaping this. First Rey, then Poe, until the creature faced him, right hand stuck out, and he has to focus quickly, steel himself mentally.

Clenching his jaw, Finn reaches for the newcomer’s hand (paw?), and at the first notion of pressure, his knees buckle, and he lets out a noise, finally. 

Wynt Savun looks confused, Finn notes from below, or he probably does, and Rey and Poe are the first to his side, helping him up, each a helping hand under one arm, and Finn hisses as Poe jostles his wrist.

The jig is up then, and there is no denying there isn’t anything wrong with him while General Organa apologises profoundly to the Spiner, and Finn can’t look either Rey or Poe in the eye, afraid of what he’s going to find there.

Rey is the one to raise his sleeve, and though he doesn’t understand the language she hisses something in, Poe’s swearing is probably an accurate enough translation of whatever it was she said.

He can’t help but stammer something, anything, to save his hide while they walk him out of the war room, while he can feel their frowns (their glares, he imagines) on him.

“I’m sorry, don’t take me to the medics, please.”

He shakes his head frantically, and the movement in combination with the pain almost makes him dizzy, and his chest is restricting, and they **can’t**  take him to the medics, they just can’t.

Instead of telling him he’s an idiot, Poe stops in the middle of the hallway, and Rey is in his field of vision suddenly, wrapping her arms around him despite her smaller size, despite the fact she isn’t the hugging type, and he can almost feel how much she wishes she had known, while Poe speaks.

“We won’t. Just... next time, tell us you’re hurt? Please?”

Relief floods through him, and the only thing he can do is nod as Poe’s arms join Rey’s around him.


End file.
